Pajarillo
by sesshy's-stalker
Summary: A tragic romance that was never meant to be...oneshot


**Pajarillo**

**by:**

**Sesshy's-Stalker**

**A/N: Here's my hand at another tragedy/romance, this song is one of my favorites. It's in Spanish so I roughly translated it into English. It's in someones point of view, you can pick any guy or girl you want. I picked Neji, but that's just me. Ok read and review!**

_Maquillaje a granel usaba a diario y vendía la piel a precio caro ** She use to use a lot of make-up daily and sold high priced skin  
**de las 8 a las 10 en una esquina era joven y fiel **From 8 to 10 waitng on a corner, she was young and loyal**  
era rosa y espina y se llamaba: no sé **she was rose and thorn and her name was: I don't know **  
jamas lo supe nunca le pregunte, **I never knew it, I never asked, **  
nunca dispuse de su tiempo y su piel **her time was never for me nor her skin **  
era un mocoso y tan solo le miré **I was just a kid and I only saw her**  
de pozo en pozo. **from fall to fall.**_

I use to watch her from a affar, admiring her beauty and loving who she was. She was always beautiful under the moonlight. In the mornings when she wasn't there I would stand under the same streetlamp she would stand under the night before. I bet she would have been just as lovely without all the make-up she wore, but I appretiated whatever I saw of her. I saw her leave with many men, not a one of them trully appretiated what she was. But I was young and naively in love with one that would never be for me.

_Y era un pajarillo de blancas alas, **And she was a little bird with white wings,**  
de balcón en balcón, **from balcony to balcony,**  
de plaza en plaza, **from plaza to plaza,**  
vendedora de amor **seller of love**  
ofrecedora para el mejor postor **offered for the highest bidder**  
de su tonada. **of her tune.**  
_  
_Cinco inviernos pasaron y ahí seguia **Five winter passed and there she was**  
a la misma hora de ayer la misma esquina era joven y fiel **the same hour as yesterday the same corner, she was young and loyal**  
y aun tenía la rosa de su piel **and still had the rose of her skin**  
Y mas grande la espina y sonreía al pasar **But bigger the thorn and smiled**  
de los mirones bajo de aquel farol **at the onlookers from under that sreetlamp**  
noche tras noche, 20 veces se la llevaron presa **night after night, 20 times they took her prisoner**  
y canto su canción **and she sang her song**  
tras de la rejas. **fom behind the bars.**_

_  
_I wrote poems and sonates of her beauty, of her flawless rosette hair, of her bottemless emerald pools. She was the perfect flower-no, rose, she was a rose in every sense of the word. On cold nights I would admire the glow of her pale skin and the blush that would spread across her cheeks. I would notice the people pass by and make sneers and remarks at her expense, calling her dirty names and others leer at her with a lustfull gaze that made you shiver worse than the ones that sneered. On many an occasion she would be caught by the police and be put into a cage in which she did not belong. It was like caging a beautiful bird that belonged in the sky soaring among the clouds not on the ground, where it was not worthy of her presence.

_Y era un pajarillo de blancas alas, **And she was a little bird with white wings,**  
de balcón en balcón, **from balcony to balcony,**  
de plaza en plaza, **from plaza to plaza,**  
vendedora de amor, **seller of love, **  
ofrecedora para el mejor postor **offered for the highest bidder**  
de su tonada. **of her tune.**_

_Se le arrugó la piel y el maquillaje suficiente no fue **Her skin withered and the make-up was no longer enough**  
para taparle la huella que dejó el sexto invierno **to cover the mark that the sixth winter left behind**  
se le acabó el color y hasta el aliento. **her color faded and so did her spirit.**  
Y de las 8 a las 10 sólo en la esquina se quedó aquel farol **And from 8 to 10 on the corner alone was left that streetlamp**  
y aquella espina la rosa no selló. **and from that thorn the rose never healed. **  
Dónde se iria y se llamaba: no sé. **Where would she go and it was called: I don't know.**  
Y sonreía. **And she smiled.**_

Time passed and I noticed the lackluster shine in her eyes. She was becoming old and weary from the fatigue of a life that offered no hope. Her bright exuberance dimmed with the passing years. It was a miserable sight to see how life had withered away the beauty of such an exrtaordinary being. It hurt to see how life had worn her down. The young rose that had once been was growing old and withering away. It might have been that I only had fallen in love with her beauty, but if that was so then why did it hurt so much when she left, when she disapeared. I never even found out her name, I never knew anything about her above what I saw of her and what I had imagined about her.

_  
_  
Y era un pajarillo de blancas alas, **_And she was a little bird with white wings,_**  
de balcón en balcón, **_from balcony to balcony,_**  
de plaza plaza, **_from plaza to plaza,_**  
vendedora de amor _**seller of love** _  
ofrecedora para el mejor postor **_offered for the highest bidder_**  
de su tonada. **_of her tune._**

Y era un pajarillo de blancas alas, **_And she was a little bird with white wings,_**  
de balcón en balcón, **_from balcony to balcony,_**  
de plaza plaza, **_from plaza to plaza,_**  
vendedora de amor **_seller of love_ **  
ofrecedora para el mejor postor **_offered for the highest bidder_**  
de su tonada. **_of her tune._**

A couple weeks later I found out everything I ever wanted to know about her. Name: Sakura Haruno, Age:34, Height: 5'5'', Birthday: unknown, Occupation: unknown, Family: unknown. That was all I got from the article in the newspaper obituaries. So I filled in the missing information so she wouldn't be just some other dead person. Birthday: March 28, it was the only day she wasn't on that corner waiting. Occupation: Seller of love, Healer of hearts, Goddess of romance, but I guess the professional term would be:Prostitute. I can't answer the last one, but she would always have me, if she wanted. I regret never having enough nerve to talk to her, but I was 18 and in love, too in denial to face the fact that she was never meant for me.

**The End  
**


End file.
